As We Go Round the Sun
by akat24
Summary: The future has just begun with eyes open wide on this carousel ride as we go round the sun. Some Buffy/Eric moments based around various holidays.
1. Temptation Waits

Disclaimer: Buffy and Southern Vampire Mysteries (sadly) do not belong to me. The title and story summary are from the song, "As We Go Round the Sun" by Barbara and Bob Silsberg.  
Summary: The future has just begun with eyes open wide on this carousel ride as we go round the sun. Some Buffy/Eric moments based around various holidays.  
A/N: This first chapter was written for a Halloween challenge on another site with the prompts "Say goodbye as we dance with the devil tonight. Don't you dare look him in the eye as we dance with the devil tonight.", costumes, masks, and parties.

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**Chapter 1: Temptation Waits**

This was _not_ a date. Buffy had only come to Eric's Halloween party to get a who's who of the Shreveport supernatural community. Yeah, that was it. So what if he gave her a ride there? It was a long walk to Fangtasia, and it wasn't as if she and Eric were wearing matching costumes or anything – though not for a lack of trying on his part, the sneaky bastard.

That didn't explain why she was currently making out with him in his office, however. Or why she shivered in anticipation – and not _fear_ – when she felt his fangs graze her neck.

This was wrong. She knew it was. And yet it felt _right_. How messed up was that?

It was never like this with Angel or Spike. Fangs plus Buffy had always equaled badness, period, end of story. Besides, a relationship with a vampire was so 'been there, done that'. So why was she here?

The easy answer was Eric. He was like the devil himself with the temptation and the sin and the hotness… but that was just a cop out.

No, at the end of the day, she liked her men tall, dark, and handsome – and 'dark' didn't mean 'brunette'. Sometimes she thought it was part and parcel of being a slayer, especially one that had lived as the Slayer as long as she had.

Besides, it wasn't like Eric was _evil_ \- though, he definitely wasn't good. And God help her, it was part of what attracted – and annoyed – her about him.

She felt him pull back. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes, only to immediately close them again. The look in his eyes was way too intense, shaking to her very core. At that moment, she _knew_ he saw right through her, knew exactly what she was thinking and who she really was. And she was okay with that.

Without saying a word, she tilted her head to the side, giving him complete access to her neck. She felt his fangs almost lazily slide into her skin, felt as he slowly began to drink from her while his hands were wreaking havoc on her senses elsewhere. She gasped when he started to—

Buffy sat up in her bed, drenched in sweat. Her hands flew up to her neck – nothing. In some ways that was worse, because it meant she and she alone was having naughty thoughts about a certain vampire. Yep, no Dracula thrall to blame it on.

She fell back onto the bed, acutely aware that her heart was beating a mile a minute. She would walk to the party tomorrow night. No, she wouldn't even _go_.

_Then again…_


	2. Observing Tradition

**Chapter 2: Observing Tradition**

His people once believed that _mistel_ held a certain power. He supposed that was why he found himself acquiescing to Pam's request to go beyond Fangtasia's usual Christmas decorations. Though she claimed that it would help business over what was a typically slow holiday for the bar, he suspected she had other reasons, more personal ones.

He was surprised, as he had thought she was past such sentimentality. But there she was, stringing up the little sprigs around the bar.

Amused, he watched her for another moment before focusing on the task at hand. The Slayer would be there soon to discuss business, and he needed to prepare.

Most vampires had thought him mad, reaching out to the Slayer and her Council, and so soon after the Great Revelation when their position in the human world was tenuous at best. When he had heard that the self-righteous vampire killers had had a change in management, however, he had known that the moment was his to seize, and seize it he did.

After all, he hadn't survived for over 1000 years without learning how to adapt.

It was far from the perfect alliance, certainly. Perhaps it more closely resembled an uneasy truce, one that might not withstand a 'misunderstanding'. And of course there was also a risk that some would perceive him to be a traitor to his own kind. This was necessary step, however, especially since one couldn't so much as flash a little fang nowadays without tripping over one of the many slayers that now littered the earth.

Besides, he was already maintaining a legitimate appearance for the sake of Fangtasia, and associating with the Council had its advantages. Even the queen herself was wary of interfering too greatly.

The greatest benefit, however, was _her_, Buffy, the Slayer. Now _she_ was unexpected, and the more he learned about her, the more she surprised him, something not easily done. And that intrigued him.

She was a bundle of contradictions. A slayer that had not one but two relationships with vampires?

And that was only the tip of the iceberg, for it was impossible not to see that she possessed an extraordinary ability to adapt, one that rivaled his own. In fact, he thought it was her strongest asset and the reason why she had survived for so long. Wasn't she the first to recognize that the vampire-slayer game had changed, that even she and her legion of girls couldn't defeat them all, especially now?

Yes, she was unique; the other slayers were simply inferior to her, which was why he insisted on dealing only with her – and why he didn't hide the fact that he wanted her.

It had been quite some time since he had last seen her, however, and he found himself anticipating her appearance. He had the distinct impression that she was purposefully avoiding him – and had been ever since Halloween. For something seemed to change that night, something that made her uneasy, though the night itself was markedly uneventful; rather he had felt it in her voice, in her glance, in her very demeanor.

"Your little human is here."

Eric looked up to see Buffy walking across the club. As she approached, she rolled her eyes. "I don't even know where to begin taking offense to that statement," she said dryly.

Pam studied the Slayer - and her reaction - with a faint gleam of appreciation in her eye. Though his childe held humans in disdain, he knew that she, too, found this one fascinating – and enjoyed provoking her almost as much as he did.

"It would be interesting to see what kind of vampire you would be," Pam said with a thoughtful expression.

Eric watched as Buffy raised her eyebrows for a moment before shaking her head ruefully, a slight smile playing on her lips. Apparently she understood that this was meant as a compliment – the highest, in fact. She turned slightly toward the bar to look at Pam's handiwork.

"Nice decorations. The bar looks awesome," she commented. "You're like an evil Martha Stewart – well, evil_er_, anyway."

Obviously pleased with the compliment, Pam smiled before turning back to said decorations.

Buffy's eyes continued to scan the room, only coming to rest on his throne, which was also festively decorated. She turned to Eric with a smirk. "So, do I see a Santa suit in someone's future? Cause I gotta tell you, I'm seeing potential here," she said in a sing song voice.

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Oh, come on. Where's your Christmas spirit?" she goaded.

He looked her over appraisingly. "If I did, would you sit on my lap and tell me if you've been naughty?" he asked, the picture of innocence.

With a snort, she made a face. "And let me guess, that wouldn't be a stake in your pocket?"

He just grinned at her, fangs fully extended. To both his surprise and delight, he watched as a faint blush tinged her cheeks. That was interesting.

"As fascinating as I find this unresolved sexual tension, you two are in my way," Pam cut in. Then she gave Eric a meaningful look. "Staff will be showing up soon, too."

By silent agreement, both Eric and the Slayer immediately began to head for the door in the back of the club toward his office. As they walked down the hallway, they saw that Pam had been very busy – the entire corridor was covered in decorations, all the way down to his office door.

The Slayer let out a low whistle. "Boy, you vamps take your holidays seriously," she commented. "Who woulda thunk?"

Eric narrowed his eyes at the festive arrangements. This was a little unusual, and he silently wondered at Pam's decorating fervor – right until he walked through the doorway.

Stopping short, he looked up; at the same time, he felt the Slayer's slight form crash into his backside at his abrupt stop.

"Geez, do you need to come with brake lights or something?" she grumbled as she regained her balance.

He ignored her, however, instead focusing on the little sprig of above his doorframe, nestled among festive red bows and boughs of pine – which almost completely masked the scent of the_mistel_.

He didn't know what irritated him more; that he had so badly misread his scheming childe or that he hadn't thought of it first.

"Hello?"

Eric looked down at Buffy, who was staring at him in exasperation. Soundlessly, he pointed up at the mistletoe. Her eyes widened as she saw what was there.

"Oh no. No, no, no, no, NO," she said hastily. She looked back at him, accusation in her eyes. "Mistletoe? Seriously? You set me up!"

"Set you up?" he asked mildly, though the amusement was clearly in his voice. "What happened to Christmas spirit?" At the same time, he inched closer so that he was almost looming over her.

Her eyes widening, she was speechless for a moment. Still, she refused to budge and within moments, she regained her composure. "This has nothing to do with Christmas spirit. It has to do with sneaky, manipulative vampires, who apparently would stoop very, very low just to cop a feel," she shot back. "What's so Christmasy about mistletoe anyway? I mean, hello, it supposedly killed a god. I don't see how that inspires kissage of any kind, and I definitely don't see what that has to do with Jesus' birth."

Eric was momentarily taken aback by this, that she knew the origins of mistletoe – _his_ origins. He studied her thoughtfully. Was she reading up on him, in a manner of speaking? And was he actually touched that she might have gone to the trouble to do so?

It must have shown on his face, because she frowned.

"What?" she said defensively. "I can't know things?"

"About the old ways?" he prodded. "How… coincidental."

The blush came back as the Slayer's face flushed crimson. "No! Yes! I mean, could you be more self-centered?" she exclaimed hotly. She glared at him, even as she turned still a deeper shade of red, before she swung her gaze up to the _mistel_ resentfully.

And yet she stayed. In fact, it seemed to him that she wasn't completely opposed to the idea; rather she was frozen in a moment of indecision.

Enough talking. Here was another opportunity, and Eric would be foolish not to seize it. Taking full advantage of her hesitation, he leaned down to capture her lips with his own – which she returned almost immediately.

Smiling against her lips, he deepened the kiss, enjoying the warmth of her tongue on his, her hands as they traveled up his back. He only pulled back many moments later – very reluctantly, of course – when he knew that she would need to take a breath soon.

She looked up at him for a moment, her eyes slightly glazed, her face flushed, her breath catching in her throat, and he couldn't resist resting his hand on her cheek.

"Den som står under mistel så ödmjuk, ingen skada skall dem ske, endast en kyss, ett kärleksbevis," he murmured. As he said the phrase long forgotten, he felt an odd tug inside, one that was very unsettling.

To think that he was susceptible to the same sentimentality that he had so readily accused Pam of having.

The Slayer gaped at him for a moment, clearly shocked by his soft words; then she came back to herself. "_You_ have a death wish," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Council, be damned. I'm out of here." Then she turned on her heel and stalked out of the hall toward the main room.

Eric watched her go, deep in thought. He barely heard Pam's laughter as Buffy stormed out of Fangtasia.

His people once believed that _mistel_ held a certain power. Perhaps they were correct.

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A/N:_ Den som står under mistel så ödmjuk, ingen skada skall dem ske, endast en kyss, ett kärleksbevis_ \- Who should ever stand under the humble mistletoe, no harm should befall them, only a kiss, a token of love.


	3. My Funny Valentine

**Chapter 3: My Funny Valentine**

When Buffy first spotted the long slender box on her doorstep, she was pissed.

She thought they had gotten past this. Seriously, Eric hadn't hit on her in months, not since Christmas, and because of that, they had actually been able to establish a working relationship of sorts.

Okay, sure, there was still some sexual tension there, but that was it. No sexy propositions and definitely no kissage. Any _more_, anyway.

But flowers? The day before Valentine's Day? Aside from being cliché, it definitely crossed the line, making things more complicated – more than she wanted to admit.

So yeah, she was pissed.

She was half-tempted to just leave the box there. With her luck, though, Dawn would trip over it and break her ankle, and Buffy couldn't risk that. As it was, she would've preferred it if her little sister was as far away as possible, considering there were some murderous fae on the loose. That wasn't going to happen, though; Dawn was the Council expert on all things fairy, so Buffy at least needed her sister there in one piece so she could defend herself – or run away – if it came down to it.

Muttering under her breath in annoyance, Buffy bent over to pick up the box. To her surprise, it was heavy. Unless Eric had bronzed some roses, there was nothing floral inside.

Curiosity piqued, she quickly brought the box inside her apartment and laid it on the table.

Dawn, who had been sitting on the couch, reading a book, immediately looked up. "What's that?" she asked, nodding to the box.

Buffy shrugged. "I don't know. It's from Eric," she replied.

Then she tore the lid off and looked inside. Her jaw dropped when she saw what was there, nestled within a bed of white silk.

It was a sword – an old one, by the looks of it. The long, flat blade definitely looked like it had seen better days; it was pitted with chinks missing, maybe even some rust. But that's what made it beautiful, as if it had a life of its own with stories to tell.

Frowning slightly, she looked up at her sister. "He gave me a sword. An old one," she said slowly. Her frown grew deeper. "Please tell me this is the vampire version of a kickback."

Dawn snorted. "And the monks say that I'm the one not based in reality," she shot back. "Eric gave you a _sword_. As a gift. In a box. With a freaking _bow_. You know what that means."

"That Pam probably wrapped it?" Buffy quipped, though she was only half-joking.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "C'mon, he's all but saying, 'Please, take my—'"

"Dawn!" Buffy cut in sharply.

Her sister had definitely been hanging around Faith too much. Not that she thought Dawn was wrong, per se. Buffy rubbed a hand over her face and sighed.

"Whatever. It doesn't matter," she reasoned. "I'm not going to fall into his bed just because he gives me a weapon... even if it is nice. _Really_ nice." Her gaze inadvertently strayed back to the box.

Snickering at the look of longing on her sister's face, Dawn got to her feet and walked over to Buffy. "Let me see Eric's oh-so-impressive 'sword'," she smirked. Her face went completely blank, however, when she saw what was in the box. "I've seen pictures of swords like this. It's made out of iron."

"Really?" Buffy asked, suddenly feeling a little better about the whole situation. "Well, that explains it. We _are_ dealing with the fae here, which makes iron of the good. It's just like Eric to make with the dramatic presentation, too, probably so I feel beholden to him or something."

"Or something," Dawn echoed, the strange look still on her face. She peered at her sister. "Iron swords were really popular among the Vikings."

It took a second for Dawn's words to sink in, but when they did, they hit hard. Buffy's mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. Then she dropped her gaze back down to the sword.

"You don't think—" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

"I think he likes you. As in, really, really likes you," Dawn replied, her eyes wide with disbelief. "What are you going to do?"

Caught completely off-guard by the question, Buffy just stared at Dawn for a moment. Then she scowled. "Are you seriously asking me if I'm going to date a vampire? Because that's worked out so well before," she replied sarcastically.

Instead of a snappy comeback, like Buffy expected, Dawn grew serious, studying her sister as if she were measuring her words carefully before replying.

"Buff, I wasn't going to say anything, but... have you seen you lately? You're happier than I've seen you since... in awhile. And I don't think it's just the Louisiana air," she said dryly. Then she gave her sister a stern look. "Don't get me wrong. A boyfriend with a heartbeat would be nice, but at least with him, there are no worries he'll go all demony on you. Plus, he's got a life of his own – so to speak – and he doesn't fall all over you like they did, which, in my opinion? Definitely a step up."

Buffy frowned. Was that true? Was she happier than she had been? And was it because of him?

She shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "It's not like that. I don't feel that way. At all."

Dawn rolled her eyes, back in full little sister form again. "Sure you don't," she retorted. "I've only been here for three days, and the UST between you two makes _me_ want to climb the walls."

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Buffy bit back a groan. She knew who it was, and if she hadn't known better, she would've sworn he had timed the whole thing. Unfortunately, she was the one who had told him to come by; she had just forgotten in all the sword confusion. She glanced at her sister, who was looking at her questioningly.

"It's Eric," she explained. "We're supposed to meet and talk business."

"Uh huh. The night before Valentine's Day. After he sends you a gift like that," Dawn nodded, not even bothering to hide her grin. Then, before Buffy could blink, she was on her feet, dashing for the door. She flung it open and stared up at Eric. "I don't know whether to hex you or start taking notes."

With that, she flounced to the guest bedroom she was staying in and shut the door, though not before giving Eric one last speculative look.

Red-faced, Buffy turned toward Eric, who was looking at her in amusement.

"Your sister is... unique," he said blandly, though there was a smile playing around his lips.

"So they tell me," she muttered.

Still amused, Eric held his arm out to her. "I thought we might get something to eat first?"

Buffy frowned as she looked at his proffered arm. Then she folded her arms across her chest and looked him directly in the eye. "You do know that having me around tends to be hazardous to your health?"

"Yes, I had noticed that," he said dryly. Then he shrugged. "But it's a risk I'm willing to take."

Buffy expected him to say something along those lines. What she _hadn't_ expected was the complete earnestness behind his words, and it stunned her. She quickly recovered, though.

Closing the door behind her, she brushed by him and began walking down the hall. After she had taken a few steps, however, she stopped and looked over her shoulder at him.

"Yeah, let's see if you're still laughing two apocalypses from now. Then we'll talk."


End file.
